Chasing Truth

  No wonder he and Aidan seemed to already know each other that first day I met Miles.

  “Lawrence told me the pictures weren’t what they seemed, and after digging and digging all summer, the only conclusion I could come to was that you or Harper had been in danger and he was protecting you. And Simon figured it out and maybe he was protecting you, too. I felt like I needed to do the same. And to find out the truth.”

  My stomach twists and turns. “Wait, so you came here for me?”

  “A little,” he admits. “And for the truth. Simon was gone. I didn’t let myself trust anyone until I was sure.”

  “What about the girl from the photo? Your first night here—”

  “I went back to the strip club to investigate again. That woman was about to go home with some sketchy-looking dudes, so I paid her for the night.” He scratches his head. “Turns out she’s got a bit of an ego, didn’t like that I wasn’t—that I didn’t want to…”

  “I get it.”

  Miles is silent while I study the rest of the contents of this folder.

  “Simon didn’t take these photos. Aidan had Secret Service training a year ago. He gave up his marine uniform. Simon found them,” I conclude.

  “Maybe he suspected Aidan of something and was gathering evidence but didn’t want it landing in the wrong hands.”

  I try to imagine Simon snooping around getting dirt on Aidan but I can’t. He came over to our apartment; he hung out with Aidan around. There was no weird vibe or tension between them.

  “But what would this prove about Aidan?” I protest. “You said yourself that you eliminated him.”

  “I didn’t know about his statement, that he was in the house that night. Even then, it’s not enough. The FBI has more on him now. I’m sure it’s solid. But I get it, Ellie. I get what it’s like to be clouded by your feelings about him. It happened to me, too.”

  I shake my head. “But why these photos? What is the significance? Nothing illegal is happening in any of these pictures.”

  “Maybe not illegal, but morally questionable…?” Miles lifts an eyebrow. “And with Harper being his living companion now and his position in the Secret Service…”

  “That’s why you didn’t want to show me,” I say more to myself than to Miles. All these feelings, all the anger and betrayal is building, and Miles and his steady moral compass are not as easy to tolerate today. “You knew I wanted to know how they met, but you thought I’d be disturbed by this? Or does your promise to Aidan hold more weight than being honest with me?”

  He doesn’t say anything.

  “I’ll admit, I’m shocked because I never imagined Harper doing anything like this, but it proves nothing about Aidan.” I stuff the photos into the package. “And it doesn’t make Harper less of a character witness than me.”

  This case from Miles’s perspective proves again how different we are, how stuck he is on his convictions and how stuck I am with my past. It was complicated and annoying before. Now it’s impossible.

  “What Aidan did, it doesn’t change how I feel about you, you know that, right?” He’s right in front of me now, his hands on my arms. “I already told you that your family’s truths aren’t yours.”

  I wipe my face and nod. “But sometimes they are.”

  “No—”

  “My mother is in a federal corrections center right now awaiting trial for bank and investment fraud.”

  Miles’s entire body tenses.

  The last flame of hope dies with his reaction. “My family…that’s what we do. Fraud. In nearly every form. We’re grifters. We don’t have birth certificates or Social Security cards—not real ones, anyway. We live off the grid, move around constantly. All of our money, our resources, we get it by stealing, scamming, or conning. Aidan is the most honest person I’ve ever known. Harper’s second, if that tells you anything about the rest of my family. If it weren’t for both of them, I’d still be in that world. Probably still working the Dr. Ames con in a new town, a new desperate victim.”

  “But I thought… No way.” He shakes his head and backs a couple steps away from me.

  “You thought what?” I prompt. “Protective custody? Witness protection program?”

  “Yes,” he says, practically whispering the word. “Wait…Dr. Ames? I’ve heard of that—that was you?”

  “Only the first time. We brought in a new cast for each performance.” The look on his face, that mix of hurt, betrayal, confusion, hits me right in the gut. “But it’s not like I had other options. It was my life. It was all I knew. And I wanted to tell you a hundred times. But you have this idea of what’s right and what’s wrong and there’s no moving you from your spot, not even if we—” I choke on my words and exhale, getting myself back together. “But you’re wrong about Harper. She couldn’t stomach my family’s life. She took off on her own when I was twelve. She was the brave one. The one who knew who she was. All she wanted was an honest life. A real one. And then she wanted that for me, too. So yeah, she let handsy assholes stuff money in her thong, but she was so sure about doing the right thing. And me, I still can’t shake that life, that part of me. If you sift through your memories, if you really think about it, you’ll see it. It’s all there.”

  Miles’s face hardens, his fist clenched at his sides. “What’s her name? Your mother.”

  “Lenora.” I swallow back more tears. “Lenora Hayes.”

  “Wait…” His eyes widen. “Your mother is married to— You’re that Hayes family?”

  “Not anymore. The FBI let me change my name. I picked a memorable one.” I look Miles over and see the truth. We’ve gone so far backward, we’ll never be able to close this space again. “And how do you know about the Hayes family? Organized Crime 101? Marshall Academy elective?”

  “Something like that.” His jaw tenses. “You can’t be here. I can’t be—”

  “Associated with a known criminal,” I finish for him. I know the top-secret security clearance rules well. Aidan managed to get around that one due to the fact that I’m a minor and Harper has never been formally charged with anything. “Unless, of course, your parents force you to live with one.”

  “Clyde was never convicted.”

  “Neither was I. He and I both proved to be fantastic informants. But you know what they say about informants?”

  He grips the chair beside him, squeezing until his knuckles turn white. Aidan might not be the only one he’d like to kill. “Don’t fall in love with them,” he says, forcing the words out.

  I nod, wipe my nose on my sleeve. “That’s probably good advice.”

  “You can’t be here,” he repeats.

  “Okay, but…” I stare at the folder on the floor, and then I give Miles one last long look, searching for any hint of conflict, uncertainty, but his look of betrayal, hatred, is rock solid. “I need those pictures.”

  “No way.” He’s so fast, the folder is scooped up before I even bend down.

  I half turn like I’m about to leave, but instead I lunge forward, slam my elbow hard against his temple—a move he taught me. I gasp when he immediately falls to the ground, out cold.

  Tears spill down my face, but I snatch the folder of pictures from his finger. I rip Simon’s note from the front, tuck the folder under my shirt. I press the sticky note against the doorframe.

  And then I run.

  CHAPTER 46

  I’ve got Aidan’s keys in the ignition when a fist pounds on the window. I’m expecting Miles—I mean, who knew that move would actually work, and his unconscious state is probably short-lived.

  Clyde’s face presses against the window; he points to the hood of the car, indicating he’s going to keep me from driving off. I roll down the window, my hands still shaking.

  “You got a valid license, young lady?”

  It’s obvious he hasn’t been in the apartment yet. “Um, no. But I need to see my sister.”

  He reaches into the window and opens the driver door. “Come on, I’ll take yo
u. Another arrest avoided, right?”

  Slowly, I get out of the car and follow him to his truck across the parking lot. I try not to glance back at the apartment. The stiff folder pinches the skin at my waist. I can’t believe I just did that. But Miles would have handed this over to the FBI, and if Harper couldn’t even tell me about this part of her life, I doubt she wants the world to see it. I’m not letting that happen. Maybe that’s what Simon was doing? Maybe he protected Harper for me.

  Clyde gets us on the road, and I’m wiping my face as fast as I can but I can’t keep up with the tears. If Aidan goes to prison where are we going to go? I pull out my phone and scroll through texts seeing if Harper has contacted me, but I pause on an unread message Justice sent me early this morning.

  JUSTICE: home free! Thank God almighty. Dominic, too. Guess there was another guy…idk

  There was definitely another guy. Soon she’d know this. Probably think I set her up yesterday or something. Yeah, I don’t think I’m going back to Holden anytime soon. I’m surprised, in the midst of so much worse, how this disappoints me. I got in way too deep with this normal-schoolgirl role.

  “Did they…” I try. “Is Aidan—”

  Clyde shakes his head. “They were processing Agent Lawrence and had your sister in the interview room. I couldn’t check in with her.” He looks me over and then turns back to the road. “The kid didn’t want to go along with your plan to drive illegally to the FBI field office? You two get into an argument?”

  I stare straight ahead, holding the folder against my chest. “Something like that.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not his fault he’s that way, you know?” Clyde sighs. “Kid’s got a heart of gold, just a bit sheltered, hasn’t had to make that big choice yet.”

  “What big choice?” I ask. “You mean joining a government agency? Taking an oath?”

  “I mean that moment when you choose to believe in someone or something that goes against your beliefs.” He drums a finger on the steering wheel, creating a hypnotic rhythm. “Everyone faces it at some time or another.”

  Realization sinks in deep. I stare at the side of Clyde’s face while he drives. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

  “I didn’t at first,” he admits. “I work on the FBI task force at headquarters in D.C. quite a bit. Mostly white-collar crimes, financial fraud. Worked on your mom’s case from a distance. Took me a while to put two and two together.”

  I stare down at my hands. “And you didn’t tell Miles.”

  “Didn’t think it’d go over so well.”

  It hadn’t.

  We’re silent the rest of the drive. My heart is still drumming, my stomach sick imagining Miles on the floor, out cold. But when Clyde pulls into an empty space outside the FBI field office, my thoughts return to protecting my sister. “Do you think you could destroy some evidence for me?”

  Clyde’s mouth falls open, preparing to protest. I remove the folder from under my shirt and pull out a picture of Harper. He glances at it, looks away, and then takes the folder from me without any further questions. He nods toward the doors to the building, letting me know I can go in.

  I open the car door but glance back at him. “You should go right back home. Check on Miles. Tell him I’m sorry.” My voice cracks. I clear my throat. “I’m really sorry.”

  And then I leave him there and join my sister inside and face my worse nightmare—being stuck with nothing to do, no way to help or move forward.

  ...

  I stare down the doors of the interrogation room where Aidan is and will them to open, will them to let me look at his face one more time. But I’m not sure it would be enough. I want to trust blindly, but I’m not sure I can. I need proof. I need to know he didn’t do it.

  I need to be inside that room right now, hearing all the evidence, all the accusations.

  Harper watches me stand, and I stop her from following. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walk out the doors of the building and stand in the middle of the parking lot where the cars on the busy road can conceal my conversation. Then I dial Connie’s number.

  I quickly explain to her what’s happened, who Aidan is, and the briefest summary of my family history that I can give.

  “Can you find some way to sync phones with the agents in the interrogation room?” I ask. “Or maybe you can tap into the camera feed?”

  Connie is silent for several seconds, and I immediately regret calling her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say in a rush. “Forget I called. Please. Just forget it.”

  “Give me forty-five minutes,” she says finally. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Justice calls for the third time, and I hit ignore again but she texts right after.

  JUSTICE: R u ok? Wtf is going on????? Call me ASAP!!

  My finger hovers over the keys, attempting to form a reply to combat more phone calls, but a familiar voice has me looking up. Forty-five minutes on the dot.

  “I’m legal counsel representing Agent Lawrence.”

  Connie is wearing a tailored suit, her hair in a neat bun on top of her head and designer glasses perched at the end of her nose. If I didn’t recognize her voice, she may have slipped right past me.

  “Are you with the DA’s office?” the desk worker asks.

  Connie shakes her head. “Agent’s Lawrence’s fiancée asked me to be here.”

  Fiancée?

  Connie glances at me and Harper and smiles. “There she is…” She walks right over to Harper and hugs her. “I came as soon as I could.”

  Harper turns to me, her eyes narrowed, but she plays along. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” She nods in my direction. “This is my sister, Ellie.”

  Connie shakes my hand and in the same motion, passes me two small objects. I wait for the desk worker to lead her back to the room Aidan’s in, and then I look down at my palm. Earpieces.

  I hand one to Harper and quickly slip the other into my ear.

  “Is she really a lawyer?” Harper whispers.

  I start to say no but then remember something Connie said the last time I visited the store. “Actually, I think she is. Or was.”

  It takes nearly ten minutes but eventually, the voices inside that room are broadcast loud and clear through the fancy earpieces. Harper’s spine straightens, and then she realizes her reaction and slumps down again in her seat.

  “If you could please restate the charges against my client so I can advise him properly,” Connie says.

  The agent in the room sighs. “What your client needs to do is give us the name of the person who hired him as a hit man, and then we can talk deals.”

  Beside me, Harper swallows a gasp. I nudge her in the side, reminding her to be quiet.

  “My client has already assured me that he isn’t nor has he ever been a hit man, so I believe we’re at a standstill.”

  Papers shuffle, and then several seconds of silence.

  “A series of international investment accounts opened under various forms of your name between last July and earlier this month,” the agent says. “The funds total over a million dollars.”

  My stomach sinks. Money. Just like Miles said.

  “And then one of my agents captured this photo of you in the middle of a business transaction… Do you know who this man is?”

  “No, I don’t,” Connie says.

  “We’ve been trying to catch him for nearly two years. He works for the DMV, and on the side, he makes authentic false identification. What did the two of you discuss? Maybe a passport or two… Or possibly three?”

  I suck in a breath, holding it in. This can’t be right. Aidan would do anything for Harper, anything to give her the life she truly wants, but not this. Not Simon. I squeeze my phone tightly in my hand, wishing I could call Miles, wishing he could hear all of this and help me dissect it.

  “One job, one pile of cash, and your girlfriend, the little sister… They get a new life. For real this time. Isn’t that wha
t you promised them?” the agent says, his voice escalating with each word. “You’re a good man, Agent Lawrence. Loyal to those you love. It must have been a painful decision, taking that job. But Harper and Eleanor, Lord knows the Charleston field office has kept a close eye on them. That can’t be easy to deal with. They were always going to be stuck with their past, defined by it. And you weren’t willing to let that happen, were you?”

  “Tell us who hired you.” The booming voice of another agent emerges. The Bad Cop, it seems. “Tell us who you used as bait that night. The kid who opened the door, who’d been luring Simon into an online relationship for months. Or maybe you didn’t handle that part, Agent Lawrence. Perhaps your organization requires a multitude of talents, much like the FBI. You’d need some brains between the accounts and covering your tracks. You’d need a pretty face to hook the Gilbert boy, and a marksman, like yourself. Because we both know you’re just the muscle, Agent Lawrence. Help us bring your team in and we’ll take that into consideration when it comes time for sentencing.”

  “That’s enough,” Connie says, her voice now low, barely above a whisper. “I’d like a moment with my client.”

  The second the room is cleared, Aidan speaks for the first time since we started listening in. “Who the hell are you?”

  “A concerned third party,” she says smoothly. “I’m going to need passwords for your email, bank accounts, cell phone…”

  Harper pulls the earpiece out, stands abruptly, and walks over to the desk. “Do you have a number for a taxi service?”

  The guy looks up from his computer. “I’d be happy to call a cab for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Harper—” I start.

  She waves a hand to stop me. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I don’t know what she’s thinking, where her head is at; has she lost faith in Aidan’s innocence? I barely hear Aidan, reciting the information Connie’s requesting, but he does comply with her request, despite knowing nothing about her.